


The Common Denominator

by bujeetles (Oboeist3)



Series: Elijah's Super Awesome Amazing PNF One Shot Writing Challenge of DOOM [4]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: M/M, Trans Character, a lil fluffball b/c writing is hard, human!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oboeist3/pseuds/bujeetles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not exactly that Miggs Ortega can't cook his meals. That would imply he has tried, and failed. No, Miggs doesn't know how to cook, doesn't know how to grocery shop, either. But here he is, in a Kroger in Seattle at four in the afternoon, trying to do just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Common Denominator

**Author's Note:**

> just a quick oneshot based on the prompt below. hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> http://pandashrine.tumblr.com/post/145690185156/jeremiahthecreepyqueerreaper-imagine-ur-otp

It's not exactly that Miggs Ortega can't cook his meals. That would imply he has tried, and failed. No, Miggs doesn't know how to cook, doesn't know how to grocery shop, either. But here he is, in a Kroger in Seattle at four in the afternoon, trying to do just that. His doctor had told him that his diet of fast food, microwave meals, and coffee was not great for a body going through a second puberty, and that if he didn't get his act together, he could seriously impact his long term health. After multiple spinal surgeries and under watch for a very crucial one, he couldn't afford to be anything less than a guy in granola bar commercial.

But determination doesn't really help if you have no starting point, which he didn't. His parents had left when he was about five, and the nuns at the church orphanage held a secrecy about the domestic particulars, to keep the young girls away from delivery boys who might whisk them off to a life of sin and debauchery. Miggs had never understood why. The fourteen year old boys were hardly catches in any sense of the word.

Anyway, that didn't matter. What did matter was finding an aisle to duck into so he didn't look like a complete idiot, or worse. He looks up at the signs, finds cereal. Normal people eat cereal for breakfast, right? Not even _he_ can mess that up! Well, so he thought. He'd never seen so many choices before. Was he allowed to choose the fun, kiddy cereal? Or was he supposed to do the boring adult ones with fiber and no flavor?

He looks up and down the aisle. There's one other guy there, about his age, carrying a little hand basket with two brands of cereal, a lot of green things, and for some reason, an TI-Nspire. This last item infuriates Miggs, who hates Nspires with a burning passion. That's the main reason he stomps over to the guy. Tall, black hair, very James Bond off-duty look, facial hair, big arm tattoos. Very Seattle.

"What are you using this for?" he snarls, grabbing the calculator out of the basket, looking like he's going to destroy it. Bond looks sufficiently startled, but pulls out his phone and replies in a note headed 'I'm deaf and you don't speak sign language' , which is true.

"Physics mostly? Why do you want to know?"

"No, no, no! If you want to do calculations with any degree of accuracy, not to mention easier to work with and none of that degree/radian bullshit, get a TI-84. Classic, mind you." he huffs, and Bond starts to smile.

"Why are you so concerned with my choice in calculators, Mr?"

"Miggs Ortega. I teach Physics and Engineering 101, and calculators matter. Trust me."

"Peter Orso. Engineering grad student. I just transferred here." he says, holding out a hand that Miggs reluctantly shakes. He's always had a love-hate relationship with his fellow major peers. Mostly hate. "I had an 83, but my roommate broke it. I've used both. They're not that different."

"Believe those lies if you want. But remember, finals come. You're low on battery, and you need it to last. With an 84, pop in some new batteries. Nspire plugs into the wall. Hope you remember that charger." he says, ominous and overdramatic, and Peter laughs, hitching and soft. It's like nothing he's ever heard before, but in a nice way. It stuns Miggs so much he almost doesn't catch the next note.

"I'll think about it. I don't suppose you came just to criticize my choice in calculators, did you?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. It's oddly cute.

"No. My doctor says I have to start eating healthier. Problem is....I don't know where to start." he admits, grumpily. Miggs doesn't like feeling weak, feeling helpless. Men aren't supposed to be vulnerable.

"Ok. What are you supposed to be eating?" Peter asks, seeming determined to help, which confuses the hell out of Miggs. All he's done is insult the guy. Maybe he's one of those 'Good Samaritans' or whatever. He's not going to look the gift horse in the mouth, that's for sure.

"Um protein? Green things? Oh, yogurt! I think. Anything that's not frozen or EasyMac, I guess." he says with a shrug and a sheepish smile, which earns him an eyeroll, vaguely patronizing, but for once it doesn't get to him. This guy's a wizard. A weird, deaf, handsome and cute as fuck wizard.

But sure enough, the guy works his magic, and half an hour later Miggs has a hand basket full of fresh things and a note with instructions to get him through the week and a phone number in case 'he can't even manage that.' (Peter's smiling when he says it though, so some of Miggs' natural acidity slides away.)

It's weird. Like romantic comedy levels of weird. In a nice way, sure, but stuff like this doesn't just _happen_ in real life, does it? It can't be true. It's too good to be. With the smile and the arms and the laugh a little on the rusty side. Miggs isn't the kind of guy who gets to see that. Be the cause of that.

As they line up at the same register, all the others are flickering off by now, Miggs realizes with a start that he doesn't want his time with the phenomenon to end. Not like this. He doesn't want Peter to become 'that hot guy at the grocery store.' He doesn't know what he does want him to be either, but that's step two.

By the time his card is swept and plastic bags are hanging off Miggs' arms like some kind of human birdfeeder, Peter is already halfway out the door.

"Fuck this is a bad idea." he murmurs, and runs after him.

Now the thing about running with a bad back isn't so much the pain, especially since all the strain is on the lower half and he's mostly fucked chest-up, but the fact that balance becomes way less of an automatic deal. The weird distribution of soup packets, fresh fruit, and other perishables isn't exactly helpful. He does manage to not flop onto his face somehow as he catches up to Peter, strolling along leisurely, but a crack in the slab filled nonsense that is Seattle's sidewalks ensures he does manage to trip and fall into his arms.  
  
As if this day couldn't get any more cliche.

"Hi." he says, managing a weak smile, the gap in his teeth way too obvious for his liking this close to the guy. This worry keeps the more obvious one of 'wow I literally fell into a guy I barely know's arms' at bay for about two seconds before he scrabbles back to his feet.

Peter waves in response, turning his head to the side again as he looks at Miggs more closely, the question obvious without words.

"I uh....fuck I'm no good at this. Can we get coffee or something? I feel like I owe you. For the help and shit. Please?" he strings together, mentally whacking himself with each word.

Peter digs in his pocket for his phone, keying up the brightness even though the sun is hidden behind grumbling grey clouds. It's an oddly thoughtful gesture. His response only takes a second to type, but it's simplicity makes Miggs feel like maybe he's got something here.

"When in Seattle ;)"

"Ok. As long as it isn't Starbucks. Big money bigshots." he says irritably, but he's hiding a smile in his palm.

"What's wrong w/ Starbucks?"

Then again, maybe he's got a dud after all.

**Author's Note:**

> NSPIRES ARE THE BEST FUCK TI-84's!!
> 
> just to be clear where I stand on that


End file.
